Chemical Defect
by ThyPurpleLlama
Summary: Sherlock hasn't been of John's concern for months since the baby came around. On the verge of relapsing, Sherlock chooses to bury himself in cases. When John finally decides it's time to see his best friend, he journeys to 221B to find that the Sociopath is nowhere to be seen. With the help of Mycroft and Lestrade, John must find his consulting detective before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so this is going to be quick. The story starts off quite slow, so stay with me guys it'll hopefully get better. The baby's name is Hannah because unfortunately Hamish (Nor Sherlock, for that matter) is not a girl's name. Also, there will be possible Johnlock further into the story (probably will be) and the rating may change from [K] depending on where the story goes. Anyway, thank you, enjoy!**

* * *

Sherlock had never felt so alone.

'I'll see you soon', 'we'll still be best friends', 'nothing will change' John had promised. However that wasn't the case.

Even when Sherlock was gone for two years he never felt completely on his own. He was constantly working, looking for people to wipe out. He was busy. Work was by his side, he did not ever really feel lonely.

'Alone protects me.' He told himself constantly, in hope that it would feel real eventually - it never did.

John hadn't seen him for five months. He had a wife and a baby to watch over now. Sherlock was the least of his worries.

Sherlock had Mrs Hudson, yes, but her constant meaningless talks or her drabbles about John and how fantastic a father he was would drive Sherlock further away from the old dear. He did not need the reminders of his so-called best friend.

He knew that emotions should not have hit him when he didn't speak to John for so long. He couldn't let it effect him or his work. He had to stay on track, keep busy, forget about John Hamish Watson. Put him into the darkest corner of his mind palace until he finally disintegrates into nothing more than dust.

But who was he kidding. He couldn't just delete John. His best bet was in fact to hide him in the most abandoned room in his mind palace until he some-what stopped thinking about him.

Sherlock just needed more work, that's all. He was lacking murders and unsolved puzzles. He just needed to get his head back in the game and cancel out any emotion that tried to invade his mind while he tried to work.

* * *

John walked home late one night from work. Mary had been off for some time now for maternity leave, so John deemed it suitable to work extra shifts to keep the money coming in. There was three to pay for now.

He shook off his shoes and hung his jacket up by the door, before climbing the stairs and heading for the bedroom.

He pushed on the door slowly in order for the not-yet-oiled squeak to be a little quieter than usual. When the gap was large enough, he slipped through into the room and just as slowly shut the door again.

After slipping out of his work clothes and silently putting on his pajamas, he shuffled over to the cot in the corner of the room.

"Hello, beautiful." He whispered, although it was almost inaudible because in his current situation anything louder would have been distressful to the others.

He leaned down and pulled the small blanket further over the small baby as it lay still, small snored emitting from it's tiny nose and her fingers curling subconsciously over the edges of the blanket which now reached her minute neck.

John couldn't help but smile widely, beaming down at his three month old daughter. His pride was above one-hundred percent. Every time he seen her his heart would melt, every other thing she does he watches with awe. He was completely dumbstruck by his first and very much precious daughter.

Before long, fatigue gets the better of John and he waddles slowly over to the bed. Swiftly he lifts the covers and slides in, turning gently to not wake up his wife.

He watched her sleeping for only a little while. Noticed - as he does every night - how innocent and vulnerable she looks when sleep takes her. How she looks so like Mary Watson and not this person she turned out to be.

John loved her very much, that was undeniable. Howbeit, he did not trust her with many things. He allowed her to take care of their child because of course she is a mother and not even a psychopath could hurt their own child - well, not this one. He even accepted the fact that she would not have supervision the majority of the day while he was at work. It was the smaller thing John couldn't trust her with, the mentality of their relationship and whatnot.

With a sigh, John turned on his back and stared up at the slightly patterned ceiling above in the dim moonlight that shone through the crack of the blinds. Soon, however, his eyelids got heavier and the slowly shut as he was taken quickly by exhaustion and fell sound asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

When he opened his eyes again, John found that the dim moonlight had evolved quickly into a bright sunlight. Beside him, the warmth had gone and the slight snores from the corner had disappeared.

Rolling over to look at the bedside table, he read the time on the clock: 10:50am.

A small groan came from his throat as he threw the duvet off of him and twisted his body round so his legs hung off the side of the bed. For a moment he sat there, rubbing the heel of his palms into his eyes. He lifted his head up and allowed his eyes to adjust properly, before standing up and stretching. He then slipped his feet into his slippers and shuffled out of the room and down the stairs.

"Morning." Mary smiled as John strolled into the kitchen.

She stood at the cooker with a pan handle in one hand and a spatula in the other. Flipping a pancake quickly with skill before it had time to become misshapen.

"G'morning," John mumbled in return, exhaustion still evident in his voice.

Mary chuckled lightly at his fatigue state. She hadn't seen him wake up later than her in a short while. Due to John working extra shifts he would usually get up before her and be in bed after her. They didn't really see much of each other because of work.

John awoke a little more, before making his way over to the high chair to see his daughter.

"Hello, Hannah," he spoke an octave higher than usual in pure awe.

She looked up at the sound of her father's voice, her baby blue eyes beaming at the sight. She, as well as Mary, had not seen John in a little while and so this was like an unexpected present, like music to her ears. A wide grin crossed her pale face and an adorable giggle left her mouth.

John's heart leaped out of his chest her reaction was perfect- More than perfect. She was perfect. He cascaded his hand through her short blonde hair, and smiled back more than he deemed possible.

Mary walked over too soon and broke the eye contact between the man and his daughter, placing a small bowl on the table attached to the high chair. Hannah's baby blue eyes diverted quickly to the food in front of her as Mary sat at the table with her pancakes and set a second plate of pancakes beside her for John.

John moved to sit at the table and watched silently as Mary took the tiny spoon and dipped it into the mush before lifting it to Hannah's mouth. When the child at first refused the food, Mary started to make the noises of a train whistle and a plane's propeller, trying again to feed the - now rather amused - baby.

Satisfied, Hannah opened her mouth to consume the food on her spoon and beamed when she enjoyed the taste. She was very stubborn, quite like her father, or rather a little more like her God father.

Finally pealing his eyes away, John grabbed his own fork and knife and dug into the slightly cooled pancakes, covered in honey.

Once done, he put the plate on the side, kissed Hannah on the head and made to make his way out before a rather annoyed cough from behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"What, just because you have places to be means I have to do all the washing up?" Mary questioned, irritation quite clear in her voice.

Turning on his heal, John sent a glare to his wife, from whom the gesture returned.

"Oh, I'm sorry," John retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I'll just make myself even more late for work than I already am."

"Oh, please," Mary spat. "I'm sure an extra two minutes is going to get you sacked, maybe you should hurry along, get to work. Maybe I should even call it home, you're there more than you are here. Go on, John, go home, to your _family_."

"Are you kidding me? I only do all these extra shifts so I can get money in for you and Hannah! I wouldn't be working so much if you would go back to work - which I realise can't happen right now, so don't be giving me a hard time for looking after my family!" John's voice raised much more by the end of the end of the rant, that much, in fact, that it disturbed Hannah from her high and caused her to roar with screams and tears.

John advanced to take care of his daughter but subconsciously, Mary had already grabbed her and held the baby in a protective manor, not breaking the glare she had locked on her husband.  
"Go, John. You'll be late." She snapped viciously before turning towards to bedroom door and leaving the room.

John inhaled a deep breath to calm himself, then left for work.

* * *

Sherlock sat on his arm chair, chin held in his hand as he leaned lazily on his arm, listening to Mrs Hudson ramble on - again.

"Oh, Mycroft!" The elderly lady exclaimed with little joy.

Sherlock lifted his head and knitted his brows in confusion. "Excuse me?" He asked, before following Mrs Hudson's line of sight. When he'd finally reached the point of attention, he saw his tall, chubby - clearly put on weight recently - older brother, leaning purposelessly on his unneeded umbrella in the doorway.

"Hello, brother dear." His voice slithered, feeling almost disgusting as it entered Sherlock's ears.

With an exaggerated sigh, Sherlock spoke back. "What is it you want, Mycroft?"

Mycroft made his way into the room, seating himself on the sofa. When deeming himself comfortable, he replied with mock exaggeration: "what? Is it so bad for a man to want to visit his younger brother?" He lifted his hand to his heart and opened his mouth teasingly wide.

Sherlock only rolled his eyes at his brother's uncharacteristically childish behavior and spat back. "When that situation involves you and I, it is most definitely bad."

With that, the room broke into a short silence, which was rather quickly interrupted by Mrs Hudson jumping up out of her seat and making her way into the kitchen.

"Cup of tea?" She asked over her shoulder as she grabbed the kettle and turned the cold tap on.

"Yes." Came the simultaneous reply from the Holmes brothers, who found themselves glaring at one another for being so... similar.

Mrs Hudson tutted at the lack of politeness, though she would've had a heart attack if she had heard either one of them say 'please' or 'thank you'.

"I see you've been working on a lot of cases recently." Mycroft started, making quite uncomfortable small talk.

"Yes..." Sherlock replied, squinting his eyes at his brother. "Get to the point." He added, not at all liking not knowing where he was going with this.

"Oh, there isn't a point. I was just simply _observing_." Mycroft returned, smirking at his own use of wording.

"Come now, there's always a point to what you say." Sherlock sat up straight and continued to glare at Mycroft. He couldn't deduce it, and it was frustrating him, almost infuriating him. He was growing quite tired of Mycroft's little game, and rather quickly.

The elder Holmes' lips curled upwards as he watched his younger brother struggle to understand what he was hinting at. He almost laughed at the sight. Almost. "Oh, dear Sherlock. You never understand the simplest of things, it always has to be clever with you, doesn't it?" His grin grew when Sherlock growled in response.

"I haven't seen John in a while." Was all he had to say.

Sherlock's features softened for a moment, a very slight moment at that, so slight that it was nearly invisible to the human eye - but not Mycroft's. All too quickly, Sherlock was tense, he hadn't wanted to talk about John and especially not to his brother.

"Yes, well. He's otherwise busy." Sherlock rejoindered, pealing his eyes from his brother.

Before Mycroft was able to continue, Mrs Hudson came in with tea and biscuits, putting a separate plate on the coffee table in front of Mycroft so he could eat too.

"So, you're on a case right now, aren't you?" Mrs Hudson questioned, taking a sip of her tea.

Sherlock answered quickly, wanting to run from the emotion that Mycroft had let into his mind palace. "No. Unfortunately, I solved that this morning. The head chef did it, was sick of-"

"Wow, you're really going through them." Mrs Hudson interrupted. Honestly, she hadn't really wanted to know what happened, she'd heard most of the other stories and they were pretty grouse. Though, a part of the reason was genuine shock. Sherlock had been working hard lately, more than usual, and that's saying something. "You shouldn't be doing so much, Sherlock, you'll end up dying of exhaustion or something."

"I'm perfectly fine, Mrs Hudson, I assure you." Was all Sherlock replied with.

"She's right, Sherlock." Mycroft interjected. "Understandably, it's a great distraction for you, but even _geniuses like you_ get tired sometimes."

"Distraction?" Sherlock scoffed, placing down his cup of tea. "Why do _you_ even care?"

Ignoring his brother's question, Mycroft stood up taking his umbrella in one hand and one last biscuit in the other. "Of course it's a distraction, Sherlock. It's rather evident you miss John, even if you don't admit it and quite frankly, you're better with him by your side. It doesn't take a genius to see it."

With that, Mycroft nodded curtly at Mrs Hudson - which she knew was the very closest to a 'thank you' she'd be getting - and left.

Shortly afterwards, Mrs Hudson got up too, wiping down her pinafore and sending an empathetic smile towards Sherlock. "He's right, you know." Was all she said before she went downstairs, leaving Sherlock on his own to sigh loudly and go in a mood.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so it's still pretty slow and the story is yet to begin, but I promise it'll pick up eventually, give it another chapter and then it should get better, hopefully. Anyway, thank you for reading!**


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